


Halp

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The guard faces the consequences of letting Sakon escape.





	Halp

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is based on [a hilarious moment in Brycemase’s Majora’s Mask Let’s Play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHhy6JgnwfY&list=PLfcejBUbhSFG2o2PlJH6iSrbGH3T81fdz&index=28&t=777s). Special thanks to him for the bun and the name “Claude.”
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As soon as the little blond boy enters Mayor Dotour’s office, Claude knows that he’s screwed. The boy glances over at him with blank blue eyes, then turns his attention to the mayor. The old woman from the bomb shop titters, “Welcome, dear!”

“Is this the child?” Dotour asks, peering curiously over his oversized desk. Claude’s tempted to lie and say _no_, but he’s in enough hot water as it is, so he keeps his mouth shut while the old woman nods her answer. Dotour folds his hands together and leans forward, announcing to the room at large, “Now then, we have the victim, the witness, the carpenter—”

“There was no carpenter,” the old woman interrupts. Dotour shakes his head, the purple tips of his quaffed hair too jelled to bob like they should. 

“Of course, my apologies, I was in that infernal, never-ending, round-about meeting for so long...” He clears his throat and restarts, “The victim, the witness, and the accused, let’s proceed.” Claude can already hear more conviction in his voice than usual. He’s been a fairly useless mayor as of late, increasingly timid and wishy-washy, but Madame Aroma must have given him a talking to last night, because he seems to be trying to summon his old vigor. That doesn’t bode well for Claude. “According to this fair lady—” That’s a blatant lie; she looks like a decrepit skeleton in a wig. “—she was attacked by the thief known as Sakon yesterday evening. After knocking her to the ground, he stole her bag. Upon hearing her cries, this valiant child came to her rescue, while you, an armed guard of the city, stood idly by.”

Claude corrects, “Stood at my post, sir.”

“Your post?”

“Yes.” He spent the rest of last night’s shift going over this speech, just in case the old lady ratted him out. Fortunately, his job affords lots of time to think, given that it only requires standing in place for hours on end. “My duty is to maintain my post at Clock Town’s northern exit and ensure that no unarmed child ventures outside into the dangers of the wild. While I’m sorry for the lady’s loss, my sworn duty had to come first.”

“Your duty,” the mayor repeats. The old woman squints her already squinting eyes at him. Claude gets the feeling that if they weren’t being watched, she’d be spitting at his feet. 

After a moment of tense silence, during which the child casually kicks the floor and twists around to look at nothing, Dotour says, “So you felt it was your duty to simply stand there and do nothing as this poor woman was brutally assaulted.”

A lump rises in Claude’s throat. He takes a steadying breath and insists, “Given that she already had help, yes.”

“Help.”

“Yes.”

“You mean this child.”

“Y... yes.”

Dotour continues staring at him, gaping mouth as open as usual. It’s incredibly off putting. Claude’s sweating but tries not to show it. 

He breaks and adds, “The child has a sword, sir—” 

“He’s a child!” the woman squawks. “And yet, he’s more of a man than you!”

Claude narrows his eyes. He knows it won’t help his case to glare an old woman down, but he can’t help it. “He seemed to have things under control, sir. He didn’t ask for any help.”

The old woman crows, “I did! I was howling, and the boy was screaming internally—you could see it in your eyes!”

“Is this true?” Dotour asks, bizarrely directing the question at Claude. “Was the boy screaming internally?”

Claude can only say, “How was I supposed to know? I’m not under orders to keep adults or people with swords from leaving Clock Town, and the other man was clearly an adult that might have even had a sword—”

“But he’d committed a crime right in front of you!”

“Well... maybe...”

“Maybe?”

Claude audibly swallows and tries, “You see, this uniform is a bit of an impediment, sir. The helmet casts a shadow over my eyes, and the fabric back here covers my ears—”

The old woman harrumphs, “Excuses! It all happened not a stone’s throw away from where he stood, and he did nothing, absolutely nothing! If it weren’t for this brave, heroic, courageous young boy...”

Claude glares absolute daggers at her, but the old woman appears impervious. Mayor Dotour sighs. 

He hangs his head for a moment, then lifts it and announces, “I’m sorry. But I’m afraid I have no choice but to fire you. Please return your armour and spear by tomorrow morning.”

Going stiff as a board, Claude splutters, “But... but, sir! I need this job! I have a wife and kids!”

Dotour looks at him curiously. “No, you don’t.”

Claude bites his tongue to stop from swearing. He forgot the mayor was an actually _good_ mayor before the falling moon mess, and he does actually know his citizens.

Claude tries just as vehemently, “Well, I have a cat!”

“Oh, I love cats,” the old woman suddenly coos, morphing into a kindly grandmother figure that doesn’t fool Claude for one second. “I’m sure the milk bar will feed the poor thing.”

Dotour shakes his head and insists, “Unfortunately, you’re still fired. But hopefully you’ll find a job with less responsibilities soon.”

There are no jobs with less responsibility. Claude’s entire job description was simply to stand in place and block small children. It was his whole purpose. His whole identity. Without standing in that doorway, he wouldn’t know what to do with his life. 

The mayor gives him a pleading look to just accept it and leave already. Feeling supremely heavy and helpless, Claude slowly trudges out of the office.

He can’t even look at the receptionist.

He slogs outside into the cool morning air. It feels like his life is over. He can’t bring himself to move any further.

He hears the door open and looks back—the boy’s coming out. He looks up at Claude with the same empty stare as always, then suddenly whips out a headband with yellow rabbit ears and zooms off towards the inn.

Claude mutters, “Judgmental little bastard,” and storms away.


End file.
